


(I long) Till dawn

by Nagiru



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: (like in the anime), Bittersweet, M/M, Meritocratic Ending (except Yamato fought alone for it), ah. yes. the warning: there is a Major Character Death... but it's. temporary?, but those two are the only ones actually important I think, more characters appear for a little while, mostly based on the anime than the game but it's a bit of a mix., non-chronological telling, this is a love story in two parts. both of them are bittersweet.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29070354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nagiru/pseuds/Nagiru
Summary: In one world, Hibiki won and the world was reset, and everyone could live their lives to their fullest. In another world, Yamato won and his dream of a meritocratic world was at last achieved, with all the sacrifices necessary.(but what is a necessary sacrifice, and what is beyond that?)
Relationships: Hotsuin Yamato/Protagonist (Devil Survivor 2)
Kudos: 7





	(I long) Till dawn

**Author's Note:**

> As requested by an anon on Tumblr, here I am back in this fandom after. years? I think? Yes, anyway. I received this request for a (bittersweet) YamaHibi on a Meritocratic AU where Yamato won alone and I thought, "you know what? That's exactly something I'd love playing with." I don't know if it was quite what you asked for, anon, sorry for that, but I had fun writing this, even if I did take... a turn I did not expect :)  
> Hope you enjoy reading it! :D
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Devil Survivor 2 and characters are not mine, but Atlus'.

He’d finally done it. All he’d worked for all his life, finally _his_. His strength proved true, his determination paid off, his _dedication_ bearing fruits at last.

The void beyond his small platform crept closer by the second, and his chest heaved as he breathed through the magical exertion and the physical pain, but he _did it_. His last obstacle gone— devoured by that same void creeping closer, but _not for long_ , no, he did not wish to make away with him for too long, just _long enough_ , and soon his wish would be true and everything would be _right_ in this world.

A vision of expansive whiteness appeared before his eyes, the being too _other_ to be properly described, and its voice echoing directly in his mind.

 _‘You have proved yourself.’_ He had. _‘Tell me your wishes, and they shall be yours.’_

He closed his eyes for a moment, a face haunting his memories for a heartbeat or two before he could push it away and picture _his world_. The world he had been working for since he was born.

He opened his mouth, opened his mind, and told the being his answer.

(in the back of his thoughts, blue eyes stared at him blankly, and he thought _that, too, shall be fixed_ )

**.**

He woke to a light touch to his side. There were pressing thoughts crowding his mind immediately, but the touch was familiar, grounding, and he rolled around and opened his eyes to the sight of brilliant blue eyes.

“Morning,” he said thickly, words slow to come to his tongue.

He got a quick press of lips against his cheek for his attempt, which he considered a good start of the day, even as his lover murmured his own words against his skin. “Good morning, Yamato.”

He returned the smile, despite the ache in his chest when he heard in his mind an echo of a laughter he had never heard in this life. “News?”

Hibiki pulled back, allowing him to rise from their bed. “Nothing pressing,” he reported dutifully. “There are still rebels in the borders, but ours still hold their own.”

Yamato hummed lightly, pulling a clean shirt on, turned sideways to the bed. Hibiki watched him from his position under the covers, eyes heavy but clear. There was a bit of a thrill, Yamato thought, in having the second most powerful creature of this world in _his_ bed. The only threat he still had, sided _with him_.

In his chest, his heart clenched painfully, and he missed his attempt at passing the button through its space.

“Kanno?” He asked, moving his eyes away from the man lounging lazily in the bed. The clock ticked along, and his wishes were at last fulfilled, but he still had more to do, and this was no time for losing oneself in barmy delusions.

… whether those were true or not.

Hibiki’s voice answered him in a concise report, and he focused instead on the words he spilled instead of the look in his eyes. They were not blank, of course; that was just a trick of the light, a bad dream haunting him to his consciousness.

( _but_ , he thought as his lover stood before him, his voice still answering him pleasantly and his fingers deftly fastening the tie at Yamato’s throat, _they were still **wrong**_ )

**.**

In the end, experience won.

Hibiki — Hibiki was _clever_ and _strong_ and _capable_ , and he could very well be considered a prodigy, all things considered, and against anyone else, Hibiki would have _won_.

But he was going against Yamato, and that made a difference. That made _all_ the difference in the world, because _Yamato_ had years of experience on Hibiki. Because _Yamato_ had been in this since his _birth_. Because Yamato grew with the Dragon Stream thrumming under his feet, and rituals inscribed on his skin as if physical things, with _power_ building and burning and _making him_.

Because Yamato was born to a position he did his _best_ to own to, but that he sometimes wasn’t entirely sure was supposed to be his, because wasn’t this exactly what he fought against?

But in the end, when the time came and it was a matter of will, experience won.

And Hibiki stood against him, and Yamato had to stand all alone in the Throne, and his thoughts were not his own anymore, because there was _something_ inside his mind, and experience won, but experience wasn’t everything, and he was _strong_ and _determined_ and he would have what he always fought for but — maybe it wouldn’t be _enough_.

Maybe it would never be enough, because experience won, but his heart may have gone with it.

**.**

The world was remade to his desires, and it still managed to surprise him, sometimes. Most of the times, when he woke up to sweetness and love against his lips, murmurs of a beloved voice reverberating through his bones.

Sometimes, though, it was because of a face he never expected to see again, staring at him with some expression he couldn’t quite comprehend but that felt _wrong_ in his chest.

(except, that wasn’t right, because that, _that_ he felt most days, _that_ he felt whenever he looked at too blue eyes and saw a kind of understanding that _shouldn’t be there_ , whenever he heard words that echoed just out of synchrony, whenever he remembered something that his companion would never again have memories of)

“Master Hotsuin,” said a voice that once called him out with teasing and fun and respect, but never outright _fear_. “Here’s the list of injuries from our last operation.”

He looked at light eyes and saw a hint of hardness there that hadn’t ever been there before, not even when the life of every single creature in this planet was threatened by a being outside their perceptions, and realized that sometimes he still _could_ be taken by surprise by the feeling in his chest.

“Any casualties?” He asked, ignoring the tightness and the _emotion_ there.

“Three.” And Yanagiya proceeded to speak names, names he knew, distantly, and that he’d always known would not be good enough for _this_. The last one, though. The last one hit him hard, because once upon a time, he’d looked at the face that accompanied that name and saw in it the strong desire that he had thought would fit _right in_. “Keita Wakui.”

Later that day, when Hibiki kissed him, Yamato remembered the day Wakui first died, in that week of change. When Hibiki lied with him, one hand lazily drawing shapeless forms on Yamato’s back, Yamato remembered Hibiki’s (the _old_ Hibiki) fierce protests against his methods _because_ of Wakui. When Hibiki fell asleep, soft and young but no longer innocent, Yamato remembered once upon a time looking into fierce, clear but grieving eyes and being told, explicitly, that _there wasn’t such a thing as unimportant lives_.

When Yamato told Hibiki of Wakui’s death just a few hours ago, Hibiki had frowned a bit and sighed, but that had been all the grief Hibiki had offered someone he had once tentatively called a friend.

Sometimes, despite the world built to his desires, Yamato could still be taken by surprise. Some of those times, it was a good thing; it was a feeling of lightness and warmth and _safety_ in his chest as he allowed himself some vulnerability around one person he knew would never ~~again~~ stand against him, never _(again)_ hurt him. Other times, it was a tight feeling in his throat as he realized that this, too, came with some sacrifices.

 _Other_ times, it came like a blow to his chest as something he dared not call _regret_ clawed its way through his bones until it nestled right beneath his heart and whispered, poisonous, _this man is not ours, this world is not perfect, this is not what we **craved**_.

… but the world was fixed, and Yamato had what he wanted, and he _enjoyed_ it. He felt at ease, knowing out there people were being given their due, were being respected by what _they_ did, instead of the name of their families. This world was not perfect, but it was the best Yamato could ever expect, and perhaps it wasn’t _quite_ what he wished for, but— it wasn’t _wrong_.

(sometimes, though, it was difficult to tell himself that)

**.**

On that last day, when the world was barely anymore and their wills were all they had left, Hibiki had held Yamato’s hand and whispered against his cheek, soft and hurt and determined, “I won’t let you do this.”

On that last day, when Yamato looked at clear blue eyes, he saw the strength and determination that had pulled him in in the first place, had smiled back with all his teeth and said, “And I won’t back away.”

On that last day, they had fought, their needs for the world bigger than their love for each other, but Yamato never doubted they _did_ love each other. Not for a second did he doubt they were something more than all the others around them.

On that last day, Hibiki died by his hands, and it _broke_ something inside him, even knowing things would be fixed soon enough.

On the first day of a new life, Hibiki was there in his office when he came to, and he was still the same Hibiki Yamato had come to know, still the same Hibiki with clear and determined blue eyes and a strength that did not tell of a civilian background.

On the first day of a new life, Hibiki had grinned at Yamato and called him _Chief_ , and he had not backed away when Yamato touched his wrist, had not looked away when Yamato leaned in, had not put a stop to it when Yamato kissed him.

Later on that same day, Yamato remembered being _with_ this man, this Hibiki who was still the same, and remembered the days they shared together, remembered the battles they fought side by side, remembered trusting this Hibiki with his life in a world where he still thought everyone had to look out for themselves.

Later on that same day, Yamato watched Hibiki sleep at his side and remembered words exchanged in the dark of the night, and knew Hibiki loved him, knew he loved Hibiki, knew they were much more than all the others around them. Not for a second did Yamato doubt their love for each other.

Not for a minute did he sleep that night, wondering whether his love was deserved, whether this was _right_ , whether he loved the Hibiki of a week that would never happen, or the Hibiki that had not had a best friend by his side when he was bullied, the Hibiki who had learned to fight for himself much younger due to necessity.

At the dawn of the second day of a new life, Yamato comforted himself with the knowledge he loved both.

(at the end of every day of a new life, Yamato closed his eyes and thought of a hand on his cheek and soft promises whispered fiercely, a wish for peace overcoming a love that would never be. At the end of every day of a new life, Yamato held in his chest the memories of a man he brought death on, and mourned him, just for a second or two. At the end of every day of a new life, Yamato draped an arm around the man in his bed and promised himself to give this love his all, because all his other desires were seen to, now, and maybe it was finally time to work on this one.)


End file.
